


Do Overs

by RedLeaderfic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Porn Battle, Tie pulling, better late than never
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:13:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLeaderfic/pseuds/RedLeaderfic
Summary: Neville looks around the locker room and sees the chance to make up for a past missed opportunity.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set between Neville's turn and his winning the title.

Neville scanned the locker room and smiled to himself when none of the other cruiserweights would meet his eyes – one of the Shihra brothers even looked away, making a careful study of the floor. The past few weeks had been something of a revelation. All those years of trying to win the respect of locker room after locker room, making sure to outwork everyone, outperform everyone, so careful to say and do the right things. Always so secure in the knowledge that if he did everything he was supposed to the rewards would come.

So much time wasted. He wished he’d understood years ago respect was something he could just reach out and take.

And the tragedy of it all was that it wasn’t as if people hadn’t tried to tell tried to tell him. 

Neville spotted Corey Graves leaning against the far wall, engrossed in his notes for the upcoming show and wearing a wine colored suit that would have looked ridiculous on literally anyone else. Neville wondered how long it had taken him to pick it out. Sharing a hotel room with Graves had been a trial during the time they’d been teaming, Neville always having to wait for his ridiculous peacock of a tag partner to get ready. Not suits as much then, but particular about his hair, about his gear, always talking about what tattoo he would get next and how it would look on TV. 

He watched Graves’ tongue dart over his lower lip as he frowned at something in the notes, then he shook his head and crossed whatever it had been out. Neville thought he’d finally gotten the letters across his knuckles redone, Graves used to complain endlessly how they needed to be freshened up. Graves shifted his weight, crossing one ankle over the other and making the material of his trousers cling to his thigh. 

Neville had a sudden, visceral memory of how much time in NXT he’d wasted watching Corey Graves before a match.

Good thing he was a different man now. Neville spared another glance to be sure no one was paying any special attention, then got up from the bench and made his way over. “Come with me,” he said to Graves, keeping his voice too low for anyone else to hear.

Corey Graves could rarely be described as guileless but seeing those blue eyes wide and uncharacteristically unsuspecting did things to Neville. “Sure,” Graves said, following him down another hallway. “Is this about the show? Do you want to set up an interv----”

The instant they were out of sight Neville grabbed Graves by his tie and pushed him against the wall. “Quiet,” he said, wrapping the tie around his fist a few times. Before Graves could disobey that order Neville pulled him further down the hallway, surprising Graves enough to make him drop his notes all over the floor.

“Wait, wait, stop, I need those,” Graves said, almost slipping once in his expensive dress shoes as Neville pulled him along.

“You can get them later,” Neville said, making sure to snarl the words. He pushed Graves into the first supply closet he found; instead of letting him recover his balance he pinned Graves against the back after closing the door behind them and flipping on the lights. “You have ten seconds to get all this off,” Neville said gesturing at his suit, “or I’m going to tear it off.” Neville was close enough to feel exactly how much that seemed to appeal to Graves. “Be quick or you’ll have to wear something off the rack tonight,” he taunted into Graves’ ear.

“You wouldn’t,” Graves said, with what sounded like genuine horror in his voice.

“Try me.” 

He stepped back, letting Graves finally catch his balance. Graves shrugged out of his jacket and made a token effort to hang it on something before giving it up and letting it fall. He caught Neville’s eye as he started unbuttoning his shirt, a wicked, eager, _familiar_ smile on his face. “Man, where _was_ all this three years ago?” he said. Neville felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Remember after we won the titles? I tried to get you to---”

“I remember.” It had been a clumsy, champagne-fueled pass that for the next whole month had made Neville blush all the way up to his ears when he thought about it. He’d felt very virtuous about turning Graves down then – had to be a professional, after all. That had been important to him.

It was one of the many, many things that made him wish he could back kick his old self in the face.

Neville undid Graves’ belt and slid it out of the waistband before tossing it over his shoulder. He palmed Graves’ erection through his trousers and grabbed Graves by his tie again, pulling him down enough to let Neville lick the tattoo on his neck, the oldest one that had taunted him all those months in NXT. He felt Graves shiver, one hand bracing against Neville’s shoulder and now he sucked hard on the tattoo, using his teeth just enough to make Graves moan. It sounded exactly how he’d always imagined it would.

Neville got to one knee, unbuttoned Graves’ trousers and slid them down over his hips. The little whimper of anticipation Graves let out made Neville’s head swim; he dug his nails into Graves’s thighs until he got himself back under control, trying in vain to keep his breathing steady. Graves had mostly gotten himself out of his shirt, his tie loosened but not completely undone. Neville stroked his thumb over Graves’ hipbone, his other hand already stroking up and down his shaft, and Graves swore when his sleeve cuff got hung up on his watch, hanging off him by one wrist.  
Good enough. Neville laughed at him, taking a breath before deep throating him before Graves could brace for it.

He watched Graves’ head snap back, his own hard-on straining against his tights. Between the trousers around his thighs and the surprise Graves almost toppled over and Neville laughed again, bracing both hands against Graves’ hips to help hold him up. Graves tried to talk, only managing a strangled off moan at first, then a breathless, “I didn’t know you’d be so good at this.”

Neville drew back to catch his breath for a second. “I’m good at everything.”

Graves nodded, a stunned amazement in his eyes that Neville wanted to see more of. He went back to work, more shallowly this time; he was enjoying this too much to let it end it early. He teased Graves with his tongue, earning that whimper again. Before long Neville tasted precome and kept his rhythm steady, watching Graves’ face; Graves’ eyes were closed as he leaned against the wall, his breathing fast. Neville watched a bead of sweat trail down over the new, half-finished tattoo on his chest. It reminded him of watching Graves wind down after their matches, lying on a bench in the back with his awful music so loud the whole locker room could hear it through his headphones, still beaded with sweat and his tights riding so low on his hips they were practically an invitation. 

Neville had waited years to see Corey Graves’ face as he came. He felt Graves’ legs shake and held him on that edge, his gaze never leaving Graves’ face. Graves opened his eyes, heavy and hooded and still with that visible disbelief this was even happening. Neville was growing very fond of that look. 

Graves’ eyes widened, another quick shiver running through him, and Neville knew he couldn’t stretch this out any longer. With one more flick of his tongue Graves came with that same strangled whimper from before, his legs buckling enough that Neville had to hold him up against the wall. Neville sat back on his heels and held the come in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, then pulled Graves by his tie down into wet, messy kiss. He hoped Graves could taste it, the way he sometimes still tasted the champagne from that drunken kiss three years ago.

He let Graves go with a shove, laughing when instead of getting himself together Graves slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Graves shook his head, awe in his voice now as well as in his eyes. “Where are these last few weeks _coming_ from?”

_You were right about me all those years ago. I didn’t have the guts to do what takes._ Neville wondered if he would be able to say that out loud to Graves someday. Perhaps. 

But it wouldn’t be tonight. “I had a realization.” 

“Trust me, I love the change.”

“So do I. Get dressed. We have a show to do.”

“No way, that’s not fair.” Graves reached for him and Neville flinched away, dropping into a runner’s crouch. If Graves so much as touched him right now Neville knew he would just from that and he didn’t want it to be over that quickly. He’d given this too much thought for much too long, he had _plans_ for how the rest of this would go. He grabbed Graves by the wrist and forcibly kept his hand away, making eye contact this time.

“ _Later_ ,” he said, grabbing his tie again and pulling Graves to his knees. “Later,” he said again, his voice under control again. “At the hotel, after the show.”

Graves smiled at that. “You wanna use the frustration for the match, I got you.”

Sure, that worked. “Do not keep me waiting.” He leaned forward to speak into Graves’ ear. “Now do as I say, get dressed and get ready to call my match.”

“Yes, my liege,” he answered, that sly, eager grin Neville had spent months watching back on his face.

“That’s better.” Neville almost released him but then pulled him back even closer. “And I want you to think about what we’re going later to do the entire show. Do you understand me?” Graves nodded, very enthusiastically, and Neville did let him go then. He. walked out into the hallway, slamming the door behind him and took some time to catch his breath. His heart was pounding like he’d just won his title. He felt invincible. When he walked back into the locker room the first thing he did was stare down Rich Swann until Swann looked away, not willing to start a fight so soon before the show. 

Neville chuckled to himself and took back his seat, looking at the title belt around Swann’s waist. Very soon now he would have his chance to take his kingdom. 

Neville closed his eyes, remembering how Graves’ lips had parted right before he came. Whoever was unlucky enough to fight him tonight had a very quick match to look forward to.

He was done with wasting time.


End file.
